Arachnophobia
by midnightfaith
Summary: Dark thoughts from Lilah...


Arachnophobia 

Arachnophobia 

Author- Midnight Faith

E-mail- [missangel186@hotmail.com][1]

Disclaimer- I am not a mutant enemy… I never was and I never shall be…

Distribution- Ace of Harts, Friday Night Fever, Buffy Angel improv… anyone else just ask

Feedback- is better than chocolate… no really… it is 

Spoilers- none. Living spoiler clean nowadays

Rating- R to be on the safe side… a bit of disturbing imagery

Pairings- Lilah/Holland, Lilah/Lindsey… Lilah/Brett to a certain extent… all in a big merge like picture…

Notes- the spiders in this fic are metaphors… otherwise you'll just be confused. And this is a Lilah vignette… 

Improv #23- ~ strike ~ hip ~ come ~ sun ~ 

Arachnophobia. Sometimes I forget I have it. A fear of spiders. It lodges itself in the back of your mind, hidden behind a closed door. Then suddenly with little or no warning… it's there again. 

The sight of a spider drives me insane. Makes me want to flee from the room. But if just paralyzed, not willing to draw my eyes from the spider's. I can't move. I can't breathe. 

Then suddenly, I'm yelling at the top of my lungs. For Lindsey, For Holland, For Brett or whoever else is around to come and remove the spider from my office. Sometimes, all three of them show up, clamoring over each other to pluck the tiny money spider from my desk and throw it from my fifteenth floor window. It's nine a.m. and it's a sunny, July morning in L.A 

Then three pairs of eyes will look at me, full of concern. Four are blue and two are brown. I tell them I'm fine. The brown-eyed man hands me a glass of water, his fingers brushing mine, just for a second. 

One of the blue eyed men pats me on the shoulder like a father does to his daughter and tells me to take it easy. 

Then they leave and it's just me and the other blue eyed man left in my office. He takes my face in his hands and kisses my nose. And then he sits with me in my office until the shaking stops. 

And other times, when the spiders are in my office and the spiders come, I scream and scream and scream and yet no one comes. It's Friday night in the city of Angels. A thunderstorm rages outside and suddenly the office is plunged into darkness. And I know soon the spiders will strike… 

And they do. In a force of three. Three tarantulas come. They crawl over my body, tug at my clothes, push me to the floor, covering me, nipping at my body, slamming my into the floor time and again. 

You never would have thought a carpeted surface could give such bruises. 

That's when I wake up. In my own bed. My hand flies to my shoulder blades and the bruises have gone. 

My eyes adjust to the darkness as I find myself covered in a cold sheen of sweat. Dreams of the spiders still prey on my mind. 

I sit up to observe the familiar surroundings of my bedroom. Chrome nightstand where the spiders keep their eggs. Blinking red light from a TV never watched and always on standby. 

I look to the spider lying next to me. Which one have a brought back from the office tonight? Sometimes the spider is a tarantula old enough to be my father. Other times the spider is a money spider ten years my junior. And sometimes… the spider is a black widow. 

"Lilah," the spider drawls as he nestles at my neck. His lips bring blood to the surface in large, ugly, purple swellings that demand concealer, turtlenecks and scarves. They will hurt for days. The spider doesn't seem to care. 

The spider moves his mouth to my lips in a kiss devoid of any emotion excepting blind passion and the basest one of need. Maybe the spider is lonely. Maybe that's what he's doing here. Or maybe this particular spider has a wife, five years younger than I am back at his two million-dollar mansion wondering where he is. 

I bite down hard on the spider's lower lip as if to draw blood from a stone. The blood flows, with bitter metallic flavor, assaulting my taste buds, dancing with the receptors there, and slips down my throat like the wine that flows rich and ready for the tasting. 

The spider pulls my lips from his, his blood dripping down his chin. I lick at the blood there as he lowers his lips to my shoulder and nips at the sensitive skin there. My heart beats faster and faster, his skin is getting warm beneath my lips, his heart races in equal and opposite measure, breathing speeds… 

Eventually it's all too much. With a feral growl from the spider's throat he flips me over so he is on top of me thrusting inside and caressing my hips, and I cry out from the pleasure and the pain of it all, biting down on his lower lip and demanding more blood. 

Then as quickly as it has come there is silence and calm after the storm. The spider rolls over and goes back to sleep without a word. I stare at the ceiling and know another night of empty passion is over…

Until the next spider graces my office… 

~ Finis ~ 

   [1]: mailto:missangel186@hotmail.com



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